


Prairie Dog Night

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Crack, M/M, Meta, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-14
Updated: 1998-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do my ears look pointed to you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prairie Dog Night

Blair stared down at his wrists and muttered to himself. "Oh, fuck. Not the chains again." He glanced up and looked around at the nomadic encampment -- it looked like Rafe and Brown were unpacking a yurt from its acme-labeled box -- until he finally spotted the man he was looking for. "Jim!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Get your ass over here. I told you I wasn't gonna wear these things again." He held one wrist up and shook it, the metal making a tiny chiming sound vaguely reminiscent of Tinkerbell.

He stiffened in horror. Oh God, not the fairy. Not again. "Jim! Over here. Now!"

Jim clamped his hands over his ears and looked sheepishly over at Simon, who kind-of ducked his head and nodded. Jim -- clad in somebody's idea of bronze age armor -- scampered down the side of the dune to where Blair lounged on a pile of endangered-animal fur, wearing delicate silver chains...and nothing else.

He glared up at Jim. "Are my ears pointed?"

"Uh, Chief?" Jim looked just a little bewildered.

A note of panic crept into Blair's voice. "Do my ears look pointed to you?"

Jim cocked his head to the side and stared intently. "Now that you mention it..."

Blair slammed his fist on the ground. "Fuck! I knew it. It couldn't *just* be the chains, could it?" He stared up at Jim. "Do I always have to be the fairy as well?"

"Uh, Blair?" Jim crouched down next to Blair, speaking softly so his voice wouldn't carry. "I didn't want to bring this up in front of the other guys, but you're naked."

With an exasperated sigh, Blair gritted his teeth. "I know I'm naked." He gestured dramatically at his crotch. "If your balls were freezing the way mine are, I'm sure you'd notice, too." He sat back on his heels. "Look, let me spell it out for you. My ears are pointed." He smoothed his hear back behind his ears so the points were easier to see. Then he smiled grimly and held up a wrist, shaking the finely-wrought jewlery. "And my chains are silver." He let his hand drop. "Now, what does that mean to you?"

Jim just shrugged. "I dunno...You like silver?"

Blair stood and grabbed Jim's leather armor in both fists, dragging him off balance. "I AM A FUCKING FAIRY PRINCE, THAT'S WHAT I AM!" Jim winced, and Blair released his grip, watching as Jim fell sideways onto the hot desert sands. He folded his arms across his naked chest."And I'm just willing to bet that I'm also your slave."

Jim blinked, and a slow smile spread across his lips, as if he realized some cosmic joke. He stood and dusted himself off, adjusting the armor so his bare thighs didn't show. "Actually, it looks like I'm just a hired mercenary here, Sandburg. Simon's the big guy. " He tossed a thumb at the top of the dune where he'd left Simon standing. "You're his slave, I guess."

"Simon's slave." Blair closed his eyes and sighed. "Could this get any worse?"

Something snuggled up around his legs, and Blair opened his eyes. A small armadillo was making its nest next to Blair, its scalely hide a marked contrast to the soft animal fur Blair had been resting on. Blair shook his leg and kicked it away. He hated anything that reminded him of rats.

"Awe, Blair, don't do that." He scooped the creature of the ground and scatcheded its leathery hide. "Ya know," said Jim,"He's kind-of cute." Jim stared deeply into the armadillo's beady-little eyes, and suddenly broke into song. "Good morning, Starshine..."

* * *

Screaming, Blair woke up to the comfort and safety of his own room, the nightmare fading in the pre-dawn light. "Man, I'm glad that's over." He fell back against the mattress, then rolled over and tried to get comfortable -- he wanted to catch another four hours of sleep -- but his wrist caught on something. He glanced at the headboard and froze, unable to look away, horrified by the thick, cracked leather strap that secured his wrist to the bedpost. A mild note of panic crept into his voice as he yelled for his blessed protector once again. "Jim!"

The End  



End file.
